Rain
by El loopy
Summary: It is raining again and Quinn knows where she needs to be. Set post 2x15. Canon Quinn x Huck. Oneshot.


Rain

The lightest of taps on the glass of her office window caused Quinn to lift her head from the laptop. Droplets of water remained suspended for mere seconds before racing each other to the sill underneath. The room had gotten dark without her noticing, the evening drawing in faster with the approaching storm cloud. Reaching over, Quinn snapped on her desk lamp and eased the laptop screen down so there was only the ghostly glow of the harsh white light left, the room being warmed instead by the soft orange lamp. The rain had picked up pace now and with a small smile the ex-fugitive pushed open the tiny window, letting the cool fresh air in. The rain fell with a hiss of sound, hitting concrete and metal and glass, the ping against the window of the individual drowned by the music of the full orchestra.

Quinn breathed deep and shut her eyes and listened to it. It took only a minute more before her smile faded, eyes opening with sharp concern, mouth twisted. She knew even as she got up out of her office chair, letting it clink back against the desk, that most of the team had gone home. Their comings and goings were becoming second nature, even if she wasn't fully paying attention. Leaving the window open and her laptop away from any wet blowback, she walked into the kitchenette and made herself a slow, calm cup of tea. The edge of tension did not leave the set of her shoulders, the twist of her mouth. After a second thought she poured hot water into an extra cup and took them both with her.

Huck's office was dark. She'd expected it to be dark. The lights, harsh and artificial, made everything so much worse. She could see his outline silhouetted against the window where the relentless rain plinked. Utterly calm, Quinn crossed the space filled with electronic trip hazards and placed the extra cup on the table next to him.

"Its for you to hold, not drink," she explained, preempting him as she placed it. "It'll keep your hands warm."

Huck didn't even look at her, his hooded gaze fixated on the water snapping against the glass. She stood a moment longer at his shoulder, watching the profile of his face.

"You don't need to be here Quinn." It was rough, steady, a dismissal. It was a defence. Quinn smiled tightly and turned her gaze to watch the same rain he did.

"That depends."

"On what?" he countered swiftly, gruffly, eyes cutting to hers for the barest of flickers.

Quinn held her mug by the handle, moving her fingers close to the ceramic and bouncing them away again when it burned. She imagined that's what she was doing with Huck.

"On the sort of person that Quinn Perkins is. On how different she is from Lindsay Dwyer."

Silence fell, and Quinn watched the rain. She listened to his breathing, heard it rag in and out, watched as he disappeared inside his head.

"I don't think I have to stay."

She saw him start, every muscle twitching to alertness, coiling to spring, and it suddenly didn't seem very difficult to see him as the ex-spy that he was.

"What?" he croaked, throat a dry rasp.

Quinn kept her voice light, chipper.

"I don't think Quinn Perkins has to do anything." She leaned around into Huck's eyeline, felt him flinch back from her proximity and let that sting for a moment before letting it go.

"For you though, for you I'll stay."

She drew back from him and retreated to the wall with her tea where a second chair waited.

"Quinn." There was a warning to his voice which she ignored. She swivelled the chair around and settled, cradling the now less-hot mug in her hands.

"Huck, I can't imagine what you went through," her voice was low and earnest, eyes no longer on the window and the rain, but the back of his head. Her body began to lean towards him as though desperately trying to close the physical distance between them, as though proximity could offer something stronger, more concentrated, if she could just get close enough. "And you had to go through it alone." Her voice almost cracked but she caught it. "So now – you're not." She paused and steadied her breath. "You sit here, and you have to re-live it, I can't help, but I can make sure you're not alone."

"It'll pass," he told her sharply, "and then I'll be…fine."

Quinn took a sip of her tea.

"Whatever you need, I will get for you." Passion infused her voice, solidifying her commitment. "Food. Hot drink. Cold drink. Alcoholic drink. A blanket. A hug. Whatever you need. Or silence. I will give you silence, but I am not leaving."

The rain trickled down the window, back lit by the streetlamps as they sat together in the wordless dark, just waiting.

Some time had passed, the rain easing to a drizzle when Huck's voice drifted out of the dark, over the sound of the feeble rain.

"I think Quinn Perkins is stubborn." There was a barely audible smile in the tone and she felt herself smile in response.

"Yeah," she replied, her hands on the now empty mug, "I think she is too."

"You know," a wry twist of humour, "it's supposed to rain all night."

Quinn sighed falsely, even as her lips curved upwards and she tilted back in the chair, gaze not leaving the outline of her friend.

"Well we'd better make ourselves comfortable then."


End file.
